27. Joao
27
JOAO
T he feel of her, the taste of her, is indescribable.
Stefi holds her breath as I lavish her clit with attention, circling it over and over again like I remember she liked. Her fingers clench in the blanket, alternately tightening and loosening. She’s forgetting to breathe, letting it out in one swoosh, and then forgetting again, and fuck, that’s one hell of an aphrodisiac.
She’s irresistible.
If I tell you I’ve been dreaming about this moment for the last eight years, it would be a lie. To dream is to hope, and I didn’t have any. Hope was impossible when I believed that the love of my life was dead. To fantasize about her would have been like rubbing salt in an open wound, and I’ve never been that much of a masochist.
Instead, I drifted through life, interacting with everything on a superficial level.
But the core of me—my soul—was numb.
But now. . .
I devour her, making up for eight years of hunger with one delicious feast.
Eight years ago, her body was more familiar to me than my own. I knew precisely how hard to pinch her nipples, how she liked her clit stroked, how she loved it when I used my fingers and my mouth at the same time.
And now? I ache to rediscover every inch of her body. I burn to discover what she likes, what turns her on. Does she like it harder now, or softer? Does she want to be tied up and spanked or massaged with warm oil and kissed all over her body? I can’t wait to find out.
Whatever it is, I’m game for it.
I slide my ring finger inside her, and the feeling of her hot, wet cunt nearly makes me lose it. I grit my teeth and ignore my aching cock for the moment, savoring the indescribable feel of her. I add another finger, and she throws her head back and hisses, “Oh, fuck yes,” and my cock jumps again.
I tease her clit, licking and sucking on it a little and then backing off before I start it all over again. Her muscles grip my fingers like a vise. “So tight,” I say hoarsely, sweat breaking out on my skin. “Are you going to be able to take my cock, little fox? Are you going to take me like a good girl?”
Her muscles spasm hard. “Yes,” she pants. “I will. Oh God, please?—”
“No gods here, Stefi. Just me.” I flick her clit from left to right with the tip of my tongue and then up and down. “You’re so beautiful. A goddess. When I saw your naked body in Zurich, I nearly came in my pants like a horny teenager.” I pinch her nipples. “You knew the effect you were having on me, bad girl. I should punish you for it. I should feed you my cock, inch by inch, until you take it all the way down your throat.”
She writhes and quivers. “Oh fuck, Joao, I’m so close. . . I’m going to come. . .”
“Ask for permission.” I don’t need to control her orgasms, but it’s exhilarating watching her balance at that knife edge, struggling not to tip over into an intense, all-consuming climax.
Her knuckles are white, her grip on the blanket tight. I add a third finger to her cunt, and she clamps down on me. I look up at her face, and her expression is one of raw, clawing need.
She looks the way I feel. Undone by pleasure, unraveled by it.
“Joao, please. . .” she begs, biting her lower lip between her even white teeth. “I can’t, I need. . .”
I twist my fingers inside her until I find her G-spot. I press down on it and lick her swollen clit, my brain a haze of lust. She writhes and groans, her body shuddering on the edge of release, and I want it. I want her to come for me.
She’s my good girl, my precious wife , my little fox, always and forever. My atoms are tearing apart, rearranging themselves with Stefi in the center. I breathe her in, her scent and softness filling my nostrils and my mouth and my soul, and I whisper, “come for me, love.”